


Sacra come il pane

by KittyHawke



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Bread, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyHawke/pseuds/KittyHawke
Summary: Ermal is a baker in a small town. His loaves, cakes and biscuits are popular with all, but especially with the blacksmith whose workshop is across the street and who buys his breakfast at Ermal's shop every day. Is it only the bread that keeps him coming back for more?
Relationships: Ermal Meta/Fabrizio Moro
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Sacra come il pane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SunshineTaj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineTaj/gifts).



> This is based on an aesthetics board made by a friend and a Tumblr post, both of which can be found in this link: https://izgu6ljena.tumblr.com/post/190645052380/inspired-by-this-post-go-read-ermal-has-a
> 
> I've wanted to do something with the idea for a while and, since I had a bit of free time lately, I was able to actually try and write this prompt. Thank you Tia for your encouragement <3 I hope it provides a decent read.

Running a bakery was a job that required a very early start each morning, but fortunately Ermal didn’t have far to go. His morning routine was a matter of rolling out of bed, washing and dressing, and going downstairs to his ovens. By 5am they were hot enough to start baking and he would go about his work for the next hour or two, often too busy to enjoy the sight of the town coming to life around him. When he’d first started his business, it had been jarring to begin work in the silent darkness, only to suddenly look up to find the sun had risen and people were on the street. His first customers could be expected to arrive at 6am for their fresh rolls and he would barely look at the clock for the rest of the day, finally glancing up to discover that it was suddenly late evening. He didn’t even mind how quickly the days went. It was far better to be busy than bored.

On this morning, like every other, he had started up the ovens while it was still dark and hadn’t noticed the sun rising until the bell above his shop door rang. He looked up from the cookie dough he was rolling and smiled at the young woman with a wicker basket.

“Miss Orsini, welcome. How are you this morning?”

“Rushed off my feet,” she replied, exhaling heavily to prove her point. “I'm visiting all the shops this morning to replenish my supplies.”

“Very good, and what can I offer you today?” Ermal asked, straightening up and brushing the excess dough from his hands.

“A loaf and two chocolate eclairs, please. It's Saturday.”

“As far as I'm concerned, you don't need an excuse to eat a nice eclair.” He opened the paper bag with a flourish and carefully placed the eclairs inside, handed them to her and slipped one of the loaves into its protective sheath. “That will be 8 lira.”

As she reached into her purse for the coins, the bell above the shop rang again. Ermal turned to greet the new customer and beamed at the sight of the town blacksmith. With his tanned skin, dark hair and enveloping black apron, he looked so out of place among the neutral walls and abundant natural light in the bakery. That difference alone was enough to draw anyone’s eye, and his dark eyes and perfectly symmetrical face were guaranteed to keep the attention on him. Ermal could stare at that face for hours if it wasn’t so unprofessional.

“Good morning” he said.

The blacksmith nodded politely. “Good morning.”

“Same as usual or will you surprise me today?”

“Same as always.”

“I'll bring it over when it's ready,” Ermal held out his hand for payment and bit his lip to avoid reacting as the blacksmith’s warm palm traced over his, depositing coins that already felt as if they were burning. “Thank you.”

The man had already gone, the ting of the bell announcing his departure.

“He really needs a wife so he doesn't have to pay for bread every day” Miss Orsini remarked. Ermal looked at her interestedly. “Are you volunteering for the position?” he asked.

“I wish,” She laughed ruefully. “I think every girl in the town has tried to get his ring on her finger. I suspect he has a wife hidden away already.”

“That would be a nice bit of gossip” Ermal agreed. He proffered the loaf and bid her farewell, checked the street to make sure no other customers were approaching, and then began to knead a new batch of dough.

If only she knew how close she was to the truth.

There were times when he had to rub his hands together to dispel the excitement when Fabrizio acted so overly formal in public, knowing that a few mere hours before, they had been as close as it was possible for two people to be. The memories caused his body temperature to spike to an uncomfortable degree. The women in the bakery liked to gossip about the handsome blacksmith across the street, wondering what kind of girl could steal his heart, and Ermal would listen and be gripped by the sudden urge to tell them all the truth. _I’ve seen Fabrizio Moro naked_ , he would shout inside his head. _I could describe every inch of him to you and he’s fucking beautiful._

**

He’d first noticed the blacksmith within a week of opening his bakery. On the hot summer days he would sit outside his workshop across the street, pounding the metal on his anvil. The heat and hard work caused a sheen all over his dark skin, and every once in a while, he would sit back on his stool and push a hand through his messy hair. Ermal could see his defined muscles bunching every time he lifted his arm and was always glad that the blacksmith kept his eyes averted. Until one day he didn’t.

One day, Ermal had allowed his eye to wander towards the window again. He had allowed his thoughts to drift and contemplate why he found that man so fascinating, instead of keeping an eye on the ovens as he should have done. The blacksmith had been working non-stop for an hour and was now resting, leaning his back against the wall of the shop. His chest was rising and falling with long, slow breaths and Ermal spent a little too much time watching his pectorals. When he moved his glance back to the handsome face, he realised to his horror that the blacksmith’s eyes were open and looking back at him.

Ermal had nearly dived to the floor. He certainly flinched backwards. The blacksmith was easy on the eye, yes, but also very intimidating. Ermal had never spoken to him or even acknowledged him on the street, and now he’d been caught openly staring. His alarm only grew when the man stood and walked towards the bakery. Ermal tried to put on his best professional mask, hoping he could blame his red face on the ovens. The bell above the door rang and the blacksmith stepped inside. He looked around as if he’d never seen such a place before, and wasn’t sure how he’d ended up there, before looking at Ermal.

“Do you have any bread rolls?”

It was the first time Ermal had ever heard his voice, and it sounded almost exactly as he’d imagined, a low growl that forced him to focus in order to understand. The only thing missing was the aggressive, demanding tone that his appearance suggested he should have. Instead he posed his question shyly, as if it wasn’t a certainty that a bakery would have bread rolls.

“Uh, yes. Yes, they’re just…” Ermal hurried to the oven and found his rolls prepared, or strictly speaking, slightly browner than they should be. He removed them quickly and poured them onto the display. “They might need a while to cool” he said apologetically.

“Okay.” The blacksmith nodded and remained where he was, apparently planning to wait in the centre of the shop until his food was ready. He seemed so much larger than the space. Ermal didn’t know what to do. Bring up the staring to explain why, or remain silent? Finally it was the blacksmith who spoke first.

“I’ve heard good things about this place.”

“Thank you” Ermal said quickly.

“Do you do anything other than bread?”

“Yes, I also do biscuits and cakes on request. Do you have anything…?”

“No,” He was cut off before finishing the question. “It’s good to know.” The blacksmith put his hands in his apron pocket and stared at a corner above the display counter. Ermal turned to see if he’d noticed a web or a nest, but the area remained spotless. His daily cleaning regimen saw to that.

“Hot, isn’t it?” he suggested, falling back on the most boring topic of conversation starter.

The blacksmith shrugged. “I suppose so. I’m used to it.”

“Yes…” Well, that had gone down in a ball of flames. “I suppose I am too. I think the bread will be ready now.”

“Thank you.”

He picked up one of the warm, soft rolls and took a bite right in front of Ermal. “It’s delicious” he said quietly. His dark brown eyes fixed on Ermal intently and he felt his legs going weak.

“Thank you. I made it myself” he murmured stupidly. The blacksmith gave a small smile and Ermal’s heart stuttered a little. He opened his palm to receive payment and felt warm coins pressed in his hand, and the lightest touch of rough skin as the blacksmith pulled his hand away. He did so more slowly than he needed to, but Ermal didn’t mind. If anything, he wished he could have held on longer.

“If you need any knives, you know where I am.”

As soon as he was gone, Ermal suddenly felt as if air had returned to the bakery and he could breathe again. He grabbed his apron and flapped it a few times, trying to create a breeze. That had been one of the most awkward moments of his life. At least the man hadn’t seemed annoyed about his staring. That was good. He definitely wouldn’t do anything like that again though.

He didn’t have a choice.

**

The blacksmith returned the next day, and the next. On his fourth visit, he finally gave his name as Fabrizio.

“I was rude not to introduce myself before” he added.

Ermal had already learned the blacksmith’s name by guiding the conversation of his customers towards him, until one of them had given it away. He had thought he looked more like a Giorgio, or some other name with a strong and stern pronunciation, but he liked the way the name rolled off his tongue. _Fa-BRI-zio._

“Don’t worry, I’m still trying to remember what names go with what faces,” he said cheerfully. “You’ll probably have to tell me again at some point.”

Fabrizio gave him another of his small smiles. “You’re the fourth person who’s tried to open a shop in this building, you know” he said.

“Oh? What happened to the others?”

“They all had to close. Lack of business, and not because there aren’t enough people around here. They just weren’t selling the right things. You might be the one who breaks the curse,” Fabrizio replied. “I certainly hope you do anyway.”

“My bread is so good, huh?” Ermal teased.

“Your bread is wonderful.”

Fabrizio’s voice seemed a little too serious and his gaze too earnest for that simple compliment. Ermal didn’t know how to respond, so he quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with the ovens until he heard the bell ting again.

Fabrizio had been coming by for around a month when his order changed. He walked in to find Ermal frantically slamming dough on the wooden board, kneading it as if it were his enemy’s face and muttering curses under his breath.

“Hey!” He raised his elbow to push hair out of his eyes, too exhausted and anxious for a better greeting. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any of your bread rolls. We had some shoplifters in this morning and they’ve cleared me out.”

Fabrizio’s face darkened and Ermal was reminded of who he was dealing with. He had seen Fabrizio testing the hammers and axes he was called upon to make. He was strong and could wield a weapon to devastating effect. “Did you see who did it?” he asked.

Ermal shook his head. He knew exactly who the thieves were, a pack of four little boys who had come in together. One of them had distracted him, trying to choose between the sweet pastries, while the others filled their pockets with loaves. Ermal figured that if they’d chosen plain bread instead of treats, there must be a good reason.

“I was getting flour from the back. I can offer you wholemeal if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.”

Fabrizio never switched his order back even when Ermal had made new white rolls, shaking his head when the freshly baked batch was offered. “Wholemeal is healthier anyway,” he explained. “And it’s tastier than I expected.”

Ermal didn’t know why, but it felt like a layer of ice between them was broken after that day. Fabrizio began to make more eye contact when he placed his order, and to make conversation while the bread was baking. They would discuss the weather, the latest events in the region, anything of note that had happened to one or something they’d heard which might interest the other. Ermal looked forward to his visits. The wobbly feeling in his stomach when their eyes met was a price worth paying to have some time with him, to have the chance to look at him and talk to him, and imagine that one day they might build a connection worthy of being called friendship…or perhaps more. That was his unspoken dream.

And then came the day that changed everything.

**

After three months, Ermal could predict with some accuracy when Fabrizio would appear for his bread, and yet he still needed a second to collect himself when he saw him coming. As he rubbed a cloth over the counter top, he glanced over and took a deep breath at the sight of the blacksmith, his hand lifted to push the door. He quickly tried to tidy his hair, or at least brush it back from his face. It had become so long and he didn't have time to cut it. With a pang, he thought of the hair clips his niece loved to model on him. As ridiculous as they were, he could use them now.

As the bell rang, Ermal gave up and simply blew a few particularly annoying locks aside, and pasted a welcoming smile on his face. “Good morning. Wholemeal bread roll with cheese and ham?” he queried.

The blacksmith's cheeks turned a little pink and Ermal regretted his enthusiastic greeting. Some customers liked their orders to be half-prepared before they walked through the door. Others got embarrassed at the insinuation that they were predictable. It was hard to tell who was who until Ermal made a wrong guess.

“Or something different today?” he added gently. There was nothing worse than people imagining they were imprisoned by their usual order and couldn't have anything else. The blacksmith, however, shook his head.

“A wholemeal roll please” he requested.

“Coming right up.”

“Wait.”

Ermal turned, surprised, but his thoughts remained focused on bread. Perhaps Fabrizio wanted a different filling today, or he wanted his sandwich toasted. Why else would he call for the baker's attention again? Fabrizio was staring at the ground and shuffling nervously, however, as if gathering courage to ask for something unusual.

“I also came to bring you this” the blacksmith declared at last. He took a leather pouch from his apron and placed it on the counter. Was this something that he wanted in his bread? It didn't look like any ingredient. It was flat and thin and hard. Ermal picked up the pouch and slipped his fingers inside, feeling cold metal. He gripped it and pulled, watching in amazement as a dagger emerged.

It was more than a knife. It was a work of art. The steel blade shone and glimmered in the sunlight, with a point sharp enough to draw blood at the lightest touch, and interwoven carvings from hilt to point. The solid silver handle was even more ornate. Deep ridges and patterns had been lovingly carved into the metal, decorated with flecks of gold, and the rough surface ensured that it wouldn't be easily knocked from its owner's grip.

Ermal stared at it for a long time, entranced both by the beauty of the weapon, and by its significance. He'd watched Fabrizio work over many afternoons and evenings. He could take a whole day to make a simple tool, one with an unpolished blade and plain hilt. How long must this have taken? And why would he go to so much trouble for something that wasn't requested, and for which he could be guaranteed no payment?

 _A gift_ , Ermal's mind whispered. Perhaps the most heartfelt gift it was within the blacksmith's power to offer. For him. He finally looked up at Fabrizio, almost afraid of what he might see there, and felt his heart crack at the nervous look in the other man's eyes. Within a moment, his whole perception of Fabrizio had changed. He was no longer the emotionally distant blacksmith, the handsome character of Ermal's fantasies. He was just a man like him, with the same hopes and fears and dreams.

“It's beautiful” he whispered.

“To protect you,” Fabrizio said quietly. It seemed he'd rehearsed this and was waiting for the cue to speak. “So you can defend your shop from thieves.”

Ermal felt his heart melting even further. “You didn't have to go to so much effort.”

Fabrizio's head lowered again, so that his face was entirely hidden, and Ermal fervently wanted to kick himself in the mouth. “I don't mean I don't appreciate it,” he said quickly. “Of course I do, but this must have taken a long time, and you're busy enough. I have to pay you.”

“Please don't,” Fabrizio looked up at him. “I wanted you to have only the best.”

The air in the shop stilled for a moment. Ermal almost forgot how to breathe. Fabrizio had tears in his eyes from the effort of making such an admission. He was a darling, Ermal thought. Behind his intimidating façade beat a heart of pure gold. Before he quite understood what he was doing, he had abandoned the dagger on the counter and walked around to stand in front of Fabrizio.

“I love it” he said sincerely, hoping the less-than-subtle message behind those words would get through.

Fabrizio didn't answer with words, but with something far better. He leaned in and touched his lips to Ermal's, cautiously at first, and then lingering. Ermal promptly melted into a puddle on the floor. The only way to stay upright was to cling to Fabrizio, so his arms found their way around the blacksmith's neck. He felt warm hands moving into his hair, one sliding down to cup his face. The contrast between the man he'd seen hammering sheets of metal into submission, and the one now leaving soft pecks on his mouth again and again, was delicious.

Ermal felt dizzy when he was released, disoriented as he tried to focus on his surroundings. As soon as he got his breath back, he wanted to kiss Fabrizio again and made a move to do so. He found those strong arms were unexpectedly unyielding now.

“Will you bring my bread over to the forge?” Fabrizio asked.

Ermal had briefly forgotten that he was a baker. His whole world had turned upside down in seconds and it seemed bizarre that he had to go back to something as banal as baking bread. He nodded slowly, and then more vigorously as he began to understand what this request meant.

“I'll be there soon.”

Fabrizio smiled and kissed his cheek. “See you soon, bello mio.”

The bell had sounded and he was gone before Ermal could even attempt to comprehend that. It took seconds before he could even unstick his feet from the floor.

Were he and Fabrizio...What were they now? He should ask about that in the forge, although if the effect Fabrizio had had on him just now was any indication, he'd probably end up forgetting to ask any pertinent questions.

**

As soon as he stepped into the forge, he choked on the hot air in his lungs and waved his apron. “How do you breathe in here?” he asked.

“I go outside,” Fabrizio answered. “There's a lovely view out there.”

Ermal frowned sceptically. “Oh, really?” He had never noticed anything particularly picturesque outside the shopfronts. The view was only narrow buildings crammed close together with a cobbled street in the middle. The roofs prevented even the mountains from being seen.

Fabrizio looked up from his bench, eyes innocently wide, and nodded. “Many times I've sat out there intending to work and been distracted by the beautiful man who owns the bakery.”

“Is that so?” Ermal tried to give a knowing smirk, although chills went through him. “How long has that been happening?”

“A few weeks, until one day I caught him looking back.”

“Maybe he noticed your staring” Ermal suggested.

“Do you think that's all it was?”

Ermal shrugged. “Or maybe he'd burned a few loaves of bread because the blacksmith across the street insisted on sitting outside with half of his buttons undone.”

He envied Fabrizio’s poker face. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from smiling or turning red. The blacksmith showed no reaction.

“Leave the bread over there” he said, pointing at some vague spot behind him and going back to work. Ermal smiled at the back of his head as he went to the rear of the forge. He placed the bread on a stone counter and, instead of turning, stayed there. The fire was just ahead of him and the waves of heat forced his eyes to close.

He smiled as two hands appeared on his waist, slipping forward to encircle him and pull him against a broad chest. A kiss was placed on his cheek, his jaw and finally his neck, which proved the last straw for his resolve. He was never able to stand teasing for long. He shook off the hold which kept him still and turned, his eyes opening as the air became cool. The world was made up of Fabrizio. In the darkness of the forge, nothing could be seen except white teeth and glittering eyes, and Ermal couldn’t want anything else.

He leaned forward and touched their noses together in greeting, delighting in watching Fabrizio’s smile grow and the affection in his eyes. Without a word, Fabrizio inclined his head and pressed their lips together. Ermal closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his neck. He felt a tongue flick against his lips and willingly opened his mouth. The edge of the stone counter pressed into his back and he barely felt the pain.

He held onto Fabrizio when their mouths parted, pulling in enough breath so he could kiss him again. Once the relief of having time together passed, their kisses became gentler. Every time those full lips touched his, Ermal felt as if warm honey was running into his stomach and finally he was smiling too much to continue. He hugged Fabrizio instead, pressing his face into his neck and inhaling the smell of sweat and molten metal that would be disgusting in any other situation, but was now simply a part of Fabrizio that he loved as much as everything else about this man.

**

The ting of the bell brought Ermal out of his reminiscences and he smiled at his latest customer. “Are you looking for the cookies?” he asked. Mrs Ruggeri nodded, smiling at her young daughter. It was her birthday today, a fact advertised by all the balloons outside their house.

“They’ll be ready in just a second,” Ermal assured them. He pulled the tray from the oven and confirmed the dough was baked, grabbed the chocolate chips to push into the biscuits while they were still yielding, and then sprinkled a dash of sugar over them. The little girl looked fascinated as she watched. “There you are. Happy birthday, piccolina.”

“Thank you!” She waved as her mother led her from the shop, paper bag of cookies dangling from her other hand. Ermal waved back and checked the clock. His daydreaming had cost him precious time.

Fabrizio’s bread was twenty minutes later than normal. The forge was already in business when Ermal arrived, bearing a warm loaf and an apologetic smile, to find that a customer had got there ahead of him. Mr Meneghin broke off his enthusiastic monologue about what item of jewellery his wife would most like, nodding at Ermal as he passed to the back of the forge.

“You really need a wife to do that for you” he said to Fabrizio.

“I’m afraid I’ve been spoiled,” Fabrizio replied easily. “No wife could make bread quite like a professional baker.”

Mr Meneghin hummed in agreement and turned to Ermal. “Well, you should find a wife at least. It would save you from having to do everything yourself and would make sure that someone was always at the shop.”

“I’m too much of a control freak,” Ermal said apologetically. “I’d end up doing everything myself anyway, and then I’d have an unhappy wife to contend with as well.”

Mr Meneghin chuckled and turned back to the blacksmith. “Anyway, she hasn’t had earrings in a long time and they were always her favourite. Could you make something so delicate?”

“I can make anything you ask me to.”

Ermal took the chance of pausing in the doorway to look back. Fabrizio was using a pair of pliers to twist the delicate pieces of silver, carefully linking them together as Mr Meneghin watched. Ermal smiled at Fabrizio’s concentrated expression and the careful way he handled the metal. It was undeniably erotic to watch him smash tools together, but a sight like this was exquisitely beautiful. Fabrizio lifted his work to the light to see better, and then dropped his eyes. He winked when he saw Ermal looking and the baker grinned, nodded and returned to his shop.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of flour and dough, hot wafts from the oven, curses over broken icing pipes and misbehaving meringue. Baking was exhausting, sweaty work, but there was no feeling quite like successfully making light fluffy loaves and beautiful coloured cakes. The satisfaction made all the hard work worthwhile. It also had the added benefit of keeping him too busy to think much about Fabrizio. Living a nocturnal relationship could be more difficult than it was if they had less to occupy their minds, and Ermal was grateful that that wasn’t the case.

At 11pm, one hour after the last customer had left, Ermal declared his bakery shut for the night. He turned the sign to Closed and started wiping down the counters, bringing the spare stores down to the back, embarking upon the unenviable task of cleaning the ovens. The bell above the shop door rang and he turned alertly.

“We're closed” he called. In the past three years, no-one had ever come looking for bread at this hour, but it was better to be safe.

“Good” Fabrizio replied, and Ermal grinned. He hurried to the doorway. “Hey, I'm just cleaning the ovens and then I'll be up.”

“Don't take too long” Fabrizio warned. He pecked Ermal's lips on the way past, disappearing upstairs to the flat. Ermal ran back to his ovens. His cleaning routine had become less militant since their relationship had begun. The hard labour of their respective jobs made it difficult to spend more than an hour in bed before exhaustion took its toll, so every minute counted.

It took almost forty minutes before he was able to declare the ovens ready for use tomorrow, despite his efforts to go quickly. He hurried upstairs and anxiously checked the slit of light beneath his bedroom door. Thankfully it glowed, but when he opened the door, he saw at once that Fabrizio was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Hello” he mumbled. Ermal moved his book from the covers, turned the lamp off and climbed into bed. “Sorry I’m falling asleep” Fabrizio added.

“It’s okay. We can cuddle tomorrow. Did you have a hard day?”

Fabrizio nodded without opening his eyes. Ermal kissed his cheek and then his lips. He’d long got over his disappointment about the nights when Fabrizio’s energy failed. There was always another, usually the very next night, when he could stay active until the early hours of the morning. Ermal lay down and cuddled into his love’s back, throwing one arm over to hold him.

“I love you so much” he whispered. It was important to say that whenever there was an opportunity, not knowing when the next one would be.

“Me too” Fabrizio said. He took Ermal’s hand and held it over his chest, so he could feel the slow steady heartbeat against his fingers.

Ermal must have been exhausted too, because he didn’t remember Fabrizio falling asleep, or indeed anything until the movement of the bed woke him and he slowly opened his eyes.

He watched Fabrizio get up and walk into the bathroom. It was too dark to read the clock and he couldn’t be bothered to reach out for it. He lay still as Fabrizio crept back into the room, trying to move as quietly as possible, only to walk into the footboard. He grunted in pain and looked anxiously at Ermal, who lifted a hand from the pillow.

“Go back to sleep” Fabrizio whispered, coming to the side of the bed and leaning down to stroke his hair.

“I will.” In fact, he was already having a hard time keeping his eyes open, thanks to the fingers that expertly massaged his head. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon” Fabrizio agreed. Ermal felt a kiss on his cheek and smiled, and then frowned as the massage stopped. Without opening his eyes, he shifted over to put his head in the groove on Fabrizio’s pillow, his smile returning at the familiar warmth before he fell back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, the alarm went off at an obnoxious volume and was knocked onto the floor for its trouble. Ermal groaned and stretched, blearily noting that the light through the curtains was turning blue, and it was time for a new day to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed and, if you can, leave a comment as well. It would make me so happy.


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